Lionheart
by Escapeism
Summary: Matthieu is a native born fresh and new in the vast forest. After acquiring his spirit animal, he became the leader of his tribe. But of course, Fate can do anything. Matthew was born into a time where his homeland was being ruined and taken down by a strange power. A Royal Family. The Prince, Gilbert, meets this strange native and Fate ties them both together. (PruCan Story)
1. Prologue

Roots determine who we are, they affect our life chances. They affect who we truly are in life, and how we will live our life. As we grow up we learn to understand that there are barriers, barriers that separate people from each other; whether it be gender or where we come from. No matter where we go, we are judged... But sometimes, the threads of fate between two people tangle at the right place and at the right time. Then they are therefore forever intertwined, no matter what.

* * *

Screaming and grunting echoed through the outskirts of the dirty, broken Kingdom. Two men reaching for each other and crying their names out, as their arms are being tugged back by men in dirty armour, dirty and foul much like the Kingdom they resided in.  
One of the men, his beautiful golden hair bouncing as his face was distraught with fear and longing, violet eyes shimmering with clean tears. His hair bounced as he continued to tug from the grips of the cruel men, and reach for his one. His lover. Screaming his lover's name in his native tongue, and then screaming it in English. Over and over again, like a prayer, like a chant.

The Prince, was being pulled back by _his own_ men. No matter how loud his screamed, sending foul words at his men to let him go, they managed to hold him back. His pigmented pink eyes narrowing with hate and his silver hair filled with dirt and nearly soaked with sweat from how hard he was fighting the men. The Prince was helplessly reaching for the beautiful blonde that cried his name... What a beautiful voice... Perfect.  
Their hands were intertwined for a pure moments just only a blessing by a cruel God, but in seconds their hands were pulled away again. Only causing the albino Prince to spit at his men and use his legs this time, kicking at them.

It was already too late. His blonde beauty was snatched away from him, snatched from his sight, but never snatched from his mind. The Prince could almost feel it, the threads of fate tugging at him, urging him to find his love... But he could not move. Fate had more threads, Fate was the puppeteer and The Prince was the wooden puppet. The Jester. Life was mean, Fate was cruel... The threads were pulling from everywhere, and The Prince could only scream.


	2. Little Prince Gilbert

The little boy touched his pale skin, his warm cheek with his small and still growing fingers. The large hall kept an equally large mirror, decorated with golden carvings around its border, decorated with golden angel wings and roses. But, its beauty did not stray the little boy from looking at himself in the mirror. Silver hair illuminated by the candles hanging from the white arched ceiling, his pink eyes shimmering with the need to blink, as he had been staring at himself for so long.

The little Prince, the boy of seven years old often did this. He often stared at his reflection and wondered what witch cursed him with this strange curse. The townspeople often mocked him, accused him of being a demon… What child would play with a little boy that looked like he had crawled from the depths of Hell? The little Prince blinked, looking down at the regal carpet. _Life was dull. _Being a Prince was not as glamorous as it was deemed to be in those fairy tales… It was a lonely life. His path of life had already been created for him; a man and a woman, his parents, using threads given to them by the Heavens by Fate to construct the little Prince's life for him. Study… Betrothal to an exotic woman from across the world… Reproduce a son, a strong, intelligent son… _Die._

Pale little fingers traced the design and patterns of the carpet, patterns of small flowers all constructed in a diamond-like pattern. This was what the little Prince did every day, maybe he'd play in the gardens by himself or his imaginary friends and maybe he'd pick the white roses in the garden to only get scolded by the gardeners. Maybe one day he would make a daisy chain, or just roll around in the mud on others… Only then to have the nurses come and bathe him, making 'tut, tut' noises to themselves and scolding him. The Prince got scolded often, but who could blame him? Being alone so often made him do things considered 'extreme' for a Prince. A Prince is not allowed to roll around in the mud, play with worms in the soil or make friends with the flowers. Oh no, a Prince must be polite, kind and above all; strong. It was a Royal code, of course… But who played by the rules? That was just plain _boring._

"Gilbert?"

The voice of his kind mother, his tall mother; the Queen. Gilbert pushed himself up to his little feet and looked around to his mother walking down the stairs, holding one side of her beautiful long dress to assure she did not trip on the fabric. The little boy's eyes widened at the presence of his mother. He had not seen her in a few months, as she had been away on some business with his father. His mother held a soft smile as she reached the ground level with Gilbert; she crouched down a little and held her arms out to her son. Within moments, Gilbert was in his mother's arms, hugging her tightly. "Mutter…" He mumbled. Gilbert had been taught German by his Mother, seeing as she held German heritage in her bloodline, and was also married to a German man.

"Hello, dear." His mother replied, her voice like the chirps of beautiful singing birds. Her laughter like that of a small sleigh bell shaking in the soft breeze of the winter air… She was simply a beautiful woman, and Gilbert would always remember her as that same beautiful woman.

Gilbert pulled away, looking at his Mother's robes. A regal colour of light green, with dark forest-coloured swirls constructed within the green thread. She looked just like a forest Queen, today… Her blonde hair beautifully curled down to the centre of her chest. Gilbert made plans to make his Mother a flower crown later that day… That is, if she wasn't going out again today. "Where have you been, Mutter…?" He asked, tugging at her gown for a straight answer.

His Mother laughed that simple laugh again, amused by her son's impatient nature. She lightly tousled his silver strands of her, and ended up ruffling his hair. Gilbert huffed and patted his own hair, straightening it out again, "Mutter! Tell me…!" He whined, tugging on her dress more.

"Come here, dear." The woman said, gently picking up her son and kissing his cheek for a long amount of time, withholding a laugh when her son squirmed and whined 'Noooo.'

"Yuck! Don't kiss me, mutter…" Gilbert huffed, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of his little purple sweater, sticking out his tongue and frowning.

The woman laughed again, "You haven't changed since I was gone, Gilbert. I was hoping maybe you'd begin to enjoy your mother's company." She made a fake pout.

"Noooo! I missed you, mutter!" Gilbert whined again, wrapping his small arms around his Mother and hugging her longingly. The little Prince never saw much of his Father, King Alfher… He was always away on 'business.'

"Gut." The woman playfully replied, beginning to walk with her son in her arms, "Dear, we need to have a talk very quickly. Let's go to the gardens shall we?" She requested, setting her son down, and smiling when his face brightened up.

Gilbert hopped a little in his place and nodded, "Ja! I'll race you!" He said, darting off down the hall and straight to the gardens. His mother did her best to keep up with him, apologizing to the servants for the sudden burst of energy from her son… It was really nothing new, but she felt it necessary to apologize nonetheless.

When his mother did finally make it outside, he saw Gilbert waiting impatiently for her, a small frown on his face and his arms crossed in a disappointed manner. The Queen could not help but give a small laugh at the attempted scolding face, knowing that he was trying to imitate the nurse who found Gilbert a very annoying little child. "Mutter… You're so slow!" Gilbert huffed.

"Oh, I know, dear… I'm sorry. You're just too fast for me…" His Mother said, smiling and sitting on a small white bench, small pillows sitting on the cold seat.

Gilbert grinned and crouched down in the grass, picking bunches of daisies and humming, "Ja! I'm the fastest in the Kingdom." He boasted, climbing up to sit next to his Mother on the bench.

The woman smiled, looking at her son who had begun to construct a little daisy crown for her. "Is that so? I bet you are. You'll be the most handsome too." She insisted, kissing her son's head.

"But then all the girls won't stop kissing me…" Gilbert huffed, sticking his tongue out and frowning, "Yuck! Girls are weird…" Well, there only seemed to be one nice girl and that was Elizabeta. A girl who looked like a boy and acted like one… That was why Gilbert liked her… Sadly, he didn't get to go into town to see her often, and when he did he had rocks thrown at him for looking so scary.

"You'll change your mind when you get older." His mother assured, watching her son construct the beautifully-made crown. She had spent a few years with her son, teaching him several languages and the crafting of clothes… After all, she did want a daughter. Gilbert understood, and as a Mother she believed that her son should learn various talents. He caught on well to languages and crafting, though… Such a funny and talented son she had.

"Yucky! No way…" Gilbert huffed again, finishing the crown and placing on his Mother's beautiful blonde hair, "Now you look like a Forest Queen!" He declared, grinning widely.

The woman laughed a little, kissing her son's head, "Thank you, little Prince." She said softly, acting like she had been newly crowned as a new Queen. She remembered that day, her fingers intertwined with her new husband, the silver crown branded and created just for her, placed upon her head. The Queen found herself smiling a little more.

"Mutter…?"

"Yes, dear?"

Gilbert tilted his head and looked up at his mother with his blinking pink eyes, "You said you wanted to tell me something? Is it bad news? Are you going away again…?" He asked a little sadly.

"Oh!" The Queen suddenly realized why she had requested her son's presence again, and she smiled, shaking her head, "Oh no, dear… I'm not going away for… Well… For a while."

Gilbert gasped and grinned, hugging his mother tightly… He was so happy to have his mother home again! They'd have time to play and talk more!

His Mother gently returned the hug, chuckling softly, "Gilbert… I have a little surprise for you." She said, her voice filled with both excitement and some sort of anxiety. With the excited look from her son, she took his hands, "You have a little brother or sister on the way."

Gilbert was not expecting a surprise like that… But, he couldn't help but laugh and grin, "S-So does that I mean I get to play with them?" He asked with excitement in his voice.

"Yes. Yes it does, Gilbert. You'll be getting a new sibling to play with. Isn't that delightful?"

* * *

His name was Ludwig.

Soft pink cheeks with big blue eyes, eyes wide with curiosity and confusion of the smiling faces around him, cooing and oohing at his beauty. The world was big, open just for him and waiting for him to grow so that he may enter the world that awaited his contribution. Fate was going to be kind to this beautiful new life, the beauty of perfection in his eyes… The gift of strength, intelligence and happiness; threads swerving around the child and constructing his life within seconds… It was all there for him, all ready and all set for him.

Unlike his brother, his threads all in tangles from all directions… His life was more open for him, more freely for him, but that only meant more complications for the little boy. Oh, how he felt so jealous, jealous of the baby's beauty and perfection… The image of his mother and father sitting before him… If Gilbert could not be a part of the family appearance wise, then he would make sure that Ludwig fit in perfectly… It was the least he could do for his little brother.

Years flew by, Gilbert focused on archery and sword play as well as learning the languages from across the world. Whereas, his brother learned how to fight both swords and his fists… He was far more intelligent than his elder brother, and far stronger. Gilbert was confused… _Shouldn't it be the other way round?_ Either way, Gilbert thought it was better to be less serious than Ludwig was… Ludwig could be such a bore sometimes!

Hell, Ludwig was already betrothed to some Princess from Italy… Or was it Rome? Gilbert did not put himself into such affairs. He was not interested in getting married… Why did people insist on his settling down and having their wife pop out a few children? It didn't sound fun. Gilbert would rather go out and journey, find new lands, discover lost worlds up in the mountains or below the deep seas.

By the time Gilbert was twenty-six, he was already an inch shorter than his younger brother, he was now nineteen… Boy, he grew up fast into a little warrior. Both brothers were informed that they were moving away, migrating their Kingdom elsewhere to a new land. There was a strange industrial revolution going on, and his father insisted that they expand their opportunities elsewhere… And he was right! Gilbert was getting sick of this old castle anyway. A new change of scene would be wonderful for them all!

But… The brothers weren't so keen on the fact that their move would ruin the large majority of a beautiful, sacred forest for the native tribes that lived within.


	3. His Spirit Animal

_(Authors note__: Italics will show that the characters are speaking a different language. Plus, thank you for all of your positive reviews. I will do my very best to keep this story up for all of you.)_

* * *

Being the youngest of the family is definitely a hard position. The family was like every other, there was nothing different about it at all. But what was the true definition of the perfect family? Some were broken, some were together but distant... Family was like a puzzle with no picture; it could all fit together, but it required time and patience. The child or parent of the family will know no different from what their vision of the perfect family is; for the parents raise their children like their parents raised them, and the line goes on.

Having more than one child would always deem difficult, especially if both could not get along.

This particular family contrasted from the family of Royals in the great city; they were the main family of their tribe that had originated from France. There was no King, no Queen, only one mutual leader. The leader was a tall male man by the name Francis, and it was a rather regal name for a man for an ancient tribe. The Fougère Tribe; which translated to Fern in the English language. It was truly a French, nomadic and well-organized tribe... Well, to say it was nomadic would now be a lie. Since the start of the industrial revolution, there has been nowhere to go without their new home being shredded to pieces by the demonic machinery. It has been a very empty and quiet tribe since the death of Francis' wife, Alice, whom died when she gave birth to her second son, Mathieu. A rather weak child from a young age, just a pretty picture rather than a strong warrior like his older brother; Alfred, who was named by their English mother.

Mathieu hated being the youngest. He and Alfred never got along really, as Alfred often blamed Mathieu for the death of their mother. He never said it to Mathieu's face, but he knew that he was spoken of behind his own back. Alfred would mumble to the ladies of the tribe how much of an incapable warrior his little brother was, thus making Mathieu less of an able husband for any of the women.  
Well... Mathieu didn't care. He had himself and his kind, supporting father. Who needed a wife? Alfred was obviously a more capable man; stronger... But more arrogant. No lady cared about arrogance; it was always the strengths and capabilities. Mathieu could climb trees, heal the sick, care for the children... But, hunting and fighting was more Alfred's area of strength. The 'warrior' was always the ideal man, however... And; Alfred was the one who had discovered his spirit animal already. So... there was no limelight for Mathieu.

* * *

"_Mathieu_?" Called a soft, male voice from the small cabin. It was Mathieu's father, Francis.

The blonde male perked his head up slightly, blinking slowly as he was pushed from his thought train. Mathieu often thought about things; what he would do in later life; having a lover for his own, and so on. But, more than often he thought about his mother. He always wondered about her, what was she like? Was she pretty? Was she kind...? This deep thinking often made him feel guilty and responsible for the death of his mother. _Was_ he truly responsible? Nothing could stray him away from the thought of his lovely mother.

"_Yes... I'm coming_."

Mathieu pushed himself up from where he had been sitting, lifting his hand to brush his slender fingers through his blonde locks of hair. He was always told that his hair shone like the golden sun, and Mathieu loved nothing more than the sun. The golden rays leaking through the branches of the thick, crowded leaves and the feel of the warmth on his skin. The blonde let out a soft sigh and turned, walking towards the voice of his father, walking into the open cabin and looking at the man who was sitting at an old wooden table, carving something.

"_Yes, Papa?_" Mathieu asked, his accent fluent, and his voice softer than the breeze on a summer's day. He spoke a little quietly, almost as if he was afraid of breaking his voice.

Mathieu's father turned, looking towards his son. His eyes tired with age, and his hair a little longer than Mathieu's. It reached to his mid-neck, whereas Mathieu's reached his jaw line. "_Ah, come here, my dear._" He requested, beckoning his son to come over.  
Without hesitation, Mathieu approached his father, his worn leather boots smoothing across the dirty ground, "_What is it...? Did you create something new, Papa...?_" He asked softly, peering over at what his father had created.

Francis nodded slowly and took the mysterious object in his hands, turning to look at his son, "_Yes. Close your eyes and open your hands before me._" He requested, smiling gently, small thin wrinkles forming on his face as he smiled. His father had aged, yes... But his apparent beauty still remained.  
Mathieu smiled in amusement and closed his eyes slowly, opening his hands out towards his father. He then felt something placed in his own hand, his thumb smoothing over the bumpy wooden texture. Could it be...?

Mathieu opened his eyes and looked at the carving in his palms, and then smiling brightly, "_Papa... Is it...?_" He began, looking at his Father with mild surprise.  
"_Yes. I had a vision and... Well, this is your spirit animal, Mathieu, dear._" Francis smiled gently, looking at the carving. As the leader of the tribe, he was given the gift to see visions from the Gods in order to predict the spirit animals of the people within their tribe. When the men and women reached a certain age in the adult lives, the leader of their tribe would have a vision in their sleep, and then he would have to carve it of wood in order to present it properly.

Mathieu looked at the carving, his eyes looking over the detail, his fingers lightly feeling it. Something wasn't right... "_Papa... This doesn't feel right. It doesn't... Feel like my spirit animal..._" He said a little sadly. Alfred was gifted with the spirit animal of an Eagle. Rather fitting for a strong, free warrior.

But... A _lion?_ For Mathieu? Impossible. The lion represented strength and leadership, and Mathieu knew that he possessed no such things. "_A lion...? Wouldn't this be more fitting with someone like... Alfred...?_"  
Francis saw his son's doubt, his soft blue eyes lurking with hopelessness, as he began to believe that the Gods had perhaps made a mistake. "_No, Mathieu... The Gods are never wrong. They see your inner talents... And, perhaps you just haven't found those talents yet. You will one day._" He reassured, taking the carving and linking a leader string in the small hole in the carving. He then turned to put it around his son's neck, and tie a knot to hold it there. "_It suits you. Lion's are majestic creatures, no? Strong and capable of leading a tribe._"

No matter what his father said, he still doubted himself... But, it was not wise to disagree with the higher power. Even if they were wrong. Mathieu gently clasped the carving that hung around his neck, and he held it close to his chest. A lion, huh? Unfitting, indeed.

"_If... If you say so, Papa... I will take it with pride._" Mathieu promised, stepping forth to wrap his arms around Francis' neck and hug him gently. He felt a soft hand pat and rub his back in a comforting gesture.  
"_Mother would be proud of you, Mathieu. She tells me she is proud of both you and Alfred, in my dreams. You are fitting of the lion, my son. Don't doubt yourself._" Francis mumbled to his son, before pulling away and smiling gently.  
Mathieu couldn't help but return the smile, one that was almost sad. Yes, his mother would be proud... He just hoped that she would continue to be proud.

"_Ah... Mathieu. Sit down for a moment, would you? We need to talk._" Francis suddenly said, his voice clicking into a serious tone as he sat down at his chair.  
Mathieu blinked at the sudden change of voice, and he nodded, sitting down. He didn't like the way Francis spoke so seriously... It meant the subject was either going to be grim or just depressing. "_Yes, papa...? What is it?_" He asked carefully.

Francis let out a small breath, and his tired eyes looking about the cabin, "_You know I won't be around forever, don't you? You are old enough to understand that concept... No?_"  
"_Papa... Of course I know about that._" Mathieu said, sighing a little. The idea of death just made him feel sore and dark in his lively heart.  
"_Yes... Well; my... passing could be just as sudden as your mother's was. If that ever does happen, I want both you and Alfred to take control of the tribe. Both of you. You're both old enough to take responsibility, and it's time you two got along._" Francis said sternly, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.

Mathieu groaned softly, placing his palm on his forehead. "_I can't argue with you, Papa... But I can try for you._" He replied, his tone rather lazy. The thought of handling the tribe with Alfred sounded like a real challenge... But it was his father's request. So; he had to try at least.  
Francis smiled a little, "_Good. Now... The settlers from the west of here. You know of them?_" He questioned his son, looking at him up and down.

The settlers... Yes. Mathieu knew of them well. The mosquitoes of the earth, sucking away the beauty and refreshing source of air. They had barged in many years ago and began creating a new Kingdom. An industrial city. They were the people that the people of The Fougère feared the most, the people who would come and destroy their land; the mother all things beautiful was being tortured slowly... Just for some grimy old buildings.  
"_Yes... What about them?_" Mathieu asked slowly, gritting his teeth as he spoke of the mosquitoes.  
Francis sighed, looking down a little, "_Our land may be eradicated... And... Well, we may have nowhere to go after this..._" He spoke.

Mathieu's heart must have either stopped of skipped a beat, because all he did was freeze, and widen his eyes in shock. Nowhere to go...? Nowhere at all? That was impossible! The world was endless and large... There had to be other places to go...

"_And... I don't know what to do._" Francis finished, looking at his shocked son, searching his shocked expression for some kind of reply... But not a sound escaped those lips. Not one. "_Mathieu...? Are you alright, my dear?_"  
Mathieu blinked and swallowed thickly, eyes darting about the room, fingers clenching around the bone of his knee as anger rose in him. "_Nowhere to go...? But-_"  
"_Mathieu... There will be nowhere to go. We'll just have to hope that the Gods will protect us, and protect our land..._" Francis said simply, reaching over to hold his son's hand, "_You and Alfred are strong boys. I'm sure with your intelligence and Alfred's strength, both of you can come together and solve the problem._" He reassured.

At this point, Mathieu was used to people hinting that he wasn't strong enough. But... Intelligence made up for it. Mathieu knew he was intelligent. He could navigate easily, recite the names of birds, trees and flowers just off the top of his head; and he knew where the animals of the forest lived, giving everyone easy access to hunt them. Just as Alfred was the strong warrior of the tribe, Mathieu was like the wise medicine man.  
"_Y-Yes, Papa..._" Mathieu stuttered in reply, gently smiling at his father, "_Yes, I understand._" He confirmed with a sharp nod.  
Francis smiled, squeezing his son's hand before releasing it and sitting back. "_Good... Now... Will you do me a favour and collect some more wood? I need to do some more carvings._" He requested.

Mathieu nodded and got up, not even hesitating for a moment, "_Yes, Papa. I'll be as quick as I can._" He said, before turning on his heel and walking outside, only to bump into someone, "_Oof... Excuse me... Sorry._" He apologised, looking up at the man's blue eyes and dark blonde hair... And then huffing once he realised he was standing in front of his brother, "_Oh... It's only you._"  
Alfred grinned and poked Mathieu's head with an arrogant smile on his face, and one hand on his hip, "_Hello, Mathieu. What did Papa need to speak to you abo-_" He then noticed the carving around his neck and looked closely, "_Oh, you have your spirit animal! That's... A lion?_"  
"_Yes. No need to make fun of me, I know it doesn't suit me..._" Matthew said, looking away, cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment as he waited for the chain of taunts to fall from his brother's large mouth.

"_No... That's really wonderful, Mathieu. Good for you._" Alfred laughed, ruffling his little brother's blonde hair and grinning, "_I need to see Papa. Goodbye for now._" He said, brushing past Mathieu and walking into the cabin.

The blonde male stood in awe for a moment, mildly surprised that his older brother was being... kind? Impossible... Mathieu must have been imagining. Or, had Alfred finally realised that Mathieu was now a man? Either way... He didn't believe for a moment that was genuine kindness. No. Alfred was arrogant. He always will be no matter what.  
Without any further hesitation, Mathieu made his way into the deep, tangled woods. It was a little quiet today... More quiet than usual. There was no sunlight, only cloud and wind to accompany Mathieu on his small journey. Curiosity about these evil mosquito settlers in the west was inching itself into Mathieu's mind... What were they like? Were they friendly...? Was there any harm in looking? Maybe not... Just so long as nobody saw... Right?

Mathieu approached the edge of the forest, and he had climbed a tree to get a better look of this strange new industrial-designed Kingdom that would be their new neighbour. Their beautiful landscapes were now diseased and crowded with the steam, polluted city. There was no blue sky in the distance now miles of a horrible misty sky, clouded with black smoke that seemed to be emitting from a strange-looking tree... What kind of tree was that? That was nothing like Mathieu had ever seen before... And it was ugly. It was horrifying. It was truly something that the Gods would never allow... But, if that was the case; why was it here? Why was there pollution? Where was the sun? The blue sky...? Where was the beauty?

If this continued... The Fougère tribe would have to leave and find somewhere else. But... They would surely starve and die if they left the forest. There would be nowhere else to go. This place was their home... Their only home.

He could see it now. Francis gone, and Mathieu left in charge with his brother. The people would look at him with worry and anxiety, asking him if everything was going to be okay. He would smile sweetly and lie through his teeth that everything was going to be okay... But it wasn't. The scary part; was that Mathieu did not know what he was going to do if that time came. He was always prepared. _Always._ However, for once he was in the dark. With future responsibility sitting on his shoulders, he was weighed down to his chest, filling with fear... Filling with hopelessness. "_Oh... What am I going to do...?_" He whispered to himself, allowing the branches to return to their normal position, and he sat back against the bark of the tree, closing his eyes.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud noise, the sound of wood being penetrated by something sharp. A strange voice yelling, "Oi! Savage!" At that, Matthew opened his eyes and whipped his head to the side, meeting the pink eyes of a deadly stranger.


	4. The Meeting

When Gilbert and his family arrived in this already-built city, they could already see the damage it had done to the wilderness nearby. _Was this a place of beauty, but now destroyed by this industrial revolution? _Gilbert asked to himself quietly, frowned and sighing softly as he saw the small amount of forest in the distance. There was an ocean nearby, he knew that much… So he could perhaps visit it one day; this was if the sea wasn't polluted with oil already.

They had time to familiarize themselves with their new home, and so far it was rather unlikeable. Dark skies filled with the heavy smoke and pollution, hardly any sunshine; which was a small bonus for Gilbert, but he did like the way the sun would shine on the beauty of the previous kingdom. Times had changed, indeed. The world was on its way to bigger things, and Gilbert did not like it at all. Whatever happened to those peaceful walks in the forest, watching the hares and rabbits nibble on leaves and prance about in the tall grass and the fields of violets? The beavers building their dams in the rivers, herons standing still and flying with grace as their talons skimmed the surface of the river? It was gone now, replaced with this dirty, murky city that held no sunshine or happiness… But that's what happens when you get older; the world suddenly becomes untrusting and ugly.

The castle wasn't much to blink twice at, not to Gilbert anyway; as he had lived in a castle for most of his life. Perhaps servants and visitors may find it mind-boggling and beautifully decorated, but not Gilbert. He took no interest in interior design and nor did his brother, both had already agreed that their previous home was much better.

"Will you boys stop sulking? It's making me depressed." The Queen mumbled as she walked through the halls, spotting her two sons sitting together and discussing the atrocity of the nearby forest.  
Gilbert looked at his mother and sighed. Despite her age, she still held that same beauty she once had in those soft blue eyes. She hadn't changed one bit. "Sorry, mutter…" Gilbert replied softly.

"Why don't you two go out and explore the castle grounds? It may help you get accustomed to the Kingdom a little. It's better than sitting in here and looking like you haven't seen the sun in days." She replied, smiling kindly at them both.

Ludwig quietly nodded and got up, "Ja… You're probably right. It's getting boring sitting in here." He agreed.

Gilbert groaned and got up, "Ach… I'm going to go to the woods. You coming, Lud…?" He asked, looking at his younger brother for a response.

"Nein… I think I just want to have a walk about near the town. I hear the people are nice here." Ludwig said, shaking his head and walking off.

Gilbert snorted and rolled his eyes, "Killjoy." He mumbled, before grinning at his mother, "Yup. I'm going out, mutter!"

The woman had been watching her son's converse back and forth, smiling a little at their strong bond of communication… She was just glad that Ludwig and Gilbert got along well as brothers… Well, aside from the odd quarrel, of course. "Really? Don't be too long, will you? Be careful, too."

"Ja ja, I'll be fine." Gilbert said, waving his hand dismissively and grinning. He lightly kissed his mother's cheek, before heading upstairs to change into his outing clothes. This included some parts of armour, but some proper clothes to have a jog about and climb trees. He was going to have stroll around the woods on his horse.  
Gilbert grabbed a small dagger from his chest, a bow and set of arrows, along with a small bag to collect some herbs for the kitchens in the servant's quarters. He always liked to help some of the servants, especially since this land was the worst to try and grow food on; they had to have food sent to them from fertile lands.

* * *

With a few words of caution from his mother, and saddling up his own horse, he was off to the nearby woodlands. It looked bigger as he approached it, the trees were much taller than he had expected… It _was_ difficult to tell the height of a tree from far away, especially since Gilbert didn't have the greatest sight in the world. He brought his horse back into a gentle trot along the twisting maze of the woods. From here the sound of booming machinery wasn't so loud, the air here was clear, he could feel the gentle breeze filling him up… It felt good. He'd have to make this place his little spot to take a breather, and hope he didn't die from choking on that polluted air. The birds could be heard high up in the trees, and he could see the odd deer or stag prancing through the trees faster than he had ever seen before. It was beautiful. An untouched forest that was inhabited by many beautiful things. Birds, rabbits, deer and even dormice… Gilbert found it fascinating that the forest had been untouched by the pollution and civilisation; it was almost as if he had entered some holy land.

Gilbert dismounted his horse and felt the soft mud beneath his clean leather boots, and he grinned at how fresh it looked. He took the reins of the horse and tied it to a seemingly strong tree, and he petted its neck lightly in reassurance. "I'll be back, keep a look out." He mumbled to it, grinning and walking through the forest, hearing the soft squelches of mud beneath him, and the small snapping of a twig every now and again… But that was when he saw _it._

A blonde male dressed in tattered clothes, grey thin trousers with worn brown boots, and a torn jumper that had been mended poorly. He had a brown belt around his slim waist; it obviously held some sort of dagger within it. His strange attire held some pressed flowers and leaves around his belt… Some sort of symbol perhaps? There was also something unidentifiable around his pale neck… But Gilbert couldn't tell from this point.

His heart pounded, and his legs felt so weak suddenly… Without even waiting another moment, he hid himself behind the trunk of a tree, and carefully watched the blonde climb a tree. Such skill and athleticism… He looked like an expert, as if he had been climbing trees every day of his life. _Savage…_ Gilbert heard that word echo in his brain. His father had spoken of these people… But this person certainly didn't look uncivilised and dangerous; in fact he looked rather beautiful with that hair he had. Gilbert's fingers traced along the bumpy tree bark, watching as the savage pushed the branches apart, looking through them and towards the Kingdom. Gilbert felt as if red lights were flashing about this, a big 'no' booming in his brain. Gilbert took his bow and withdrew an arrow from the set he had clung to his back, and he pushed the arrow back on the string of the bow, aiming…

Now the blonde savage was sitting back against the bark, eyes closed. Gilbert had the perfect shot to kill him right there and then… But… When he shot, he missed by inches. The arrow hit the wood of the bark.

"Oi! Savage!"

Mathieu's blue eyes shot open, and he found himself staring face to face with the Prince in front of him. He must have been one of the strange settlers…

"_Settler!_" Mathieu spat in his native tongue, taking out his dagger and pointing it at Gilbert, even though they were quite a way from each other, Mathieu wanted to make a warning. "_Leave and never come back, monster._"

Gilbert stared at the strange blonde man, speaking in some sort of French language. Shit. He hadn't learned French properly. Gilbert rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips, "Oh, ja, come down here and stab me, then." He said, knowing that the savage probably didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

"_I said leave!_" Mathieu yelled, spotting a branch and jumping at it, grabbing it with his empty hand, and then landing on a strong branch below him. Mathieu then dropped, holding onto the branch and swinging; landing in front of Gilbert with knees bent. He then assumed his position and stood up, pointing the dagger at Gilbert, his soft eyes raging with threat.

Gilbert had to admit, Mathieu's navigation with trees were pretty impressive. But now that they were closer, Gilbert didn't really care that the tip of a blade was pressing against his hip… He couldn't stray himself away from those soft eyes, that stared at him with anger and hate. The albino snapped out of his trance and gently pushed the blade away with his finger.

Mathieu looked at Gilbert with some wide fascination, those demonic eyes, that pale skin… The silver hair that shone like the moon reflecting off the deep blue waters. Perhaps it was more like the silver sand dunes in the desert on a cold, windy night? Mathieu did not know, but this man was a sight to stare at… A rather terrifying sight, indeed…

"Démon?" Mathieu questioned, arching a thin brow and raising his blade up to Gilbert's neck.  
Now, Gilbert knew _that_ word. He glared darkly at the blonde, feeling very offended that term. He wasn't a child now, and he knew what to do when people even dared to utter that word to him. Gilbert grabbed Mathieu's wrist, and twisted it, turning his body around to press the blonde into the tree. "Non!" Gilbert spat, "Don't ever call me that, you savage!" He hissed.

Mathieu felt himself crying out, shuddering at the pain in his wrist and gritting his teeth. This hurt _very _much. What unnatural strength! "_Ah! Please let me go! I am sorry!_" Mathieu cried helplessly, as he dropped the blade from his hand.

Gilbert swallowed at the blonde's begging, and of course… He let go, but grabbed Mathieu's blade from the ground, just in case he tried anything. "_Sorry._" Gilbert managed in French, his dialect rather terrible as his German accent tried to take over his words.

"_I expect that you should be._" Mathieu spat in return, turning to rub his wrist, red with imprinted finger marks on his pale skin. He noticed his favourite blade in Gilbert's hand, and he reached for it, "_Give me that back! That's mine, you thief!_" He accused.

Gilbert smirked, holding the blade up above Mathieu, and lightly pushed him away, "Ah ah ah!" He sang, pushing Mathieu back against the bark of the tree, "Back off, savage. How do I know that you won't stab me at the first opportunity you get?"

Anger powdered on Mathieu's sweet face, and he punched Gilbert in the gut, watching as he groaned and wobbled a little; giving Mathieu a chance to jump up and snatch his blade back.

Gilbert withdrew his blade quickly and pointed it at Mathieu's face, and saw that he was met with the same sight. The blade almost pressing against his own temple, while his own blade was aimed at Mathieu's blade. A clear shot, all it took was a swift slice, and the savage would be dead in moments.

But… Gilbert couldn't help but look at the strange wood carving around Mathieu's neck. The carving of a lion, of course… Gilbert had seen pictures of the creature before! The carving sat on Matthew's chest, near his heart… Immediately, Gilbert began to search through his memory banks. What did that word mean? The two words collided into 'lion heart'… He had learned that meaning. It meant someone who was extraordinarily courageous. Gilbert snorted a little and looked back at Mathieu's eyes. Yes… They held some sort of courage, and the fact that a blade was aimed at him proved evidence of that.

"Looks like we're at an impasse." Gilbert mumbled, stepping back and putting the blade back into the small scabbard attached to his belt. They were both important people, and Gilbert could see that importance of authority in Mathieu's stance, his way of speaking… It was obvious; so why kill someone of importance, and vice versa?

Mathieu stared in wonder for a moment, before frowning with suspicion and withdrawing his weapon from the threat, gently placing it back in his own scabbard, worn with age. "_You are strange, pale man._" Mathieu mumbled, frowning.

"Yes, I can't understand a word you're saying." Gilbert said, frowning and looking about the forest. He took a breath and did his best to speak French; "_I am… Not… Not here… to _uh_ harm you?_" Gilbert spoke with obvious difficulty, frowning.

The blonde's face turned into one of amusement, "_Oh really? You had a blade pointed at me a moment ago._" He paused for a moment, "_You speak my language?_" He asked fluently, smiling a little, a smile of amusement and teasing.

"Ah… _Yes? But… I am not… so good._" Gilbert replied, trying not to hit himself as he spoke with such large difficulty.

Mathieu rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, brushing his fingers through his blonde hair, and then he pointed to himself, "Mathieu." He said, before gesturing towards Gilbert, awaiting his name.

"Gilbert." The albino replied, smirking a little. Mathieu… What a sweet name for such a sweet face, indeed.


	5. Daisy Chains

_(Authors Note: I apologise for the late updates, college has been kicking my butt.)_

* * *

Now that the two seemed to be getting along rather nicely, there was the deep sense of paranoia brimming between the two; eyes flitting back and forth from the blades that were securely in the other's belt… It was all the sense of fear that the other would switch into a deadly assassin and slit their counterpart's jugular.  
Mathieu was still having a fairly hard time trusting this settler, the one that came from the King… The man who had so simply destroyed his land with no remorse or any sign of empathy for the tribe. The tribe had been there for generations… And here it was; coming to an end.

Gilbert, however, was still quite afraid of this strange savage… Well, he decided not to use that word for Mathieu anymore. His name would be just how it was supposed to be spoken. Gilbert kept thinking 'Lionheart' for the name of this beautiful man… But of course, to say that, it would be questioned.

Both men had agreed to lay their weapons on the ground so that they could fully try to trust each other, and the absence of their weaponry would help that fact. Mathieu withdrew his blade and tossed it on the leaf-covered ground, and then he looked at Gilbert.

"Ack… All of them? Hold on…" Gilbert grumbled and took his bow along with his entire set of arrows and tossed them there; he then took the blade from his belt and threw it there, and then he took another blade from his boot pocket and threw that on the ground, too. Mathieu continued to watch with a fairly amused look, eyes filled his surprise and a single brow arched as he watched the many weapons discarded.

"_Ridiculous…_" Mathieu mumbled, crossing his arms and continuing to watch.

Gilbert frowned at Matthieu and then took a pile of wet leaves, placing them on the weapons so that they were hidden from sight. "Oh, be quiet. I carry this many for a reason." He huffed, knowing that the blonde could not understand him. Truth be told, Gilbert was actually paranoid about coming to the woods by himself… So he took a lot of weaponry just in case.

Mathieu rolled his eyes and looked around… That was when he laid eyes on Gilbert's horse. Mathieu looked towards Gilbert and pointed at the horse, "_Is this yours, _Gilbert?" He asked.

The albino looked up from the pile of leaves and looked at where Mathieu was pointing, ignoring the gibberish of French. "Ah! My horse." He nodded, and walked over to the creature, beckoning Mathieu to follow him. "Ah… He doesn't like strangers very much…" He said to Mathieu, but then paused, "Oh wait… Never mind, you can't understand me. That phrase doesn't translate so well." Gilbert snickered.

The blonde was confused by the man's English gibberish and he just focused on the horse in front of him. Both men stopped in front of the creature, Mathieu observing the horse's coat closely. It was a black 'Warmblood' horse, such a beautiful horse that was evidently well-cared for.

Mathieu looked at the horse, which in turn looked back at the human with careful eyes. The blonde could sense that the horse wasn't very comfortable with Mathieu's strange presence, so Mathieu gently held his palm out to the horse. The creature pressed its muzzle against the blonde's palm and its nostrils flared as it sniffed the blonde.

Gilbert had seen many people try to befriend his horse, as it was a very cheeky and stubborn creature. His mother did not approve of him riding such a mischievous beast, but Gilbert and his horse seemed to have a strange bond, and Gilbert was never really thrown off of his horse unlike when his brother tried to have a go and ride the creature. Hell, anyone who tried to saddle him up besides Gilbert would probably be pushed on the floor by the stubborn stallion.

So, Gilbert was just patiently waiting for Mathieu's hair to be chewed on by the horse, so he could laugh.

Mathieu slowly stood forward, raising his hands a little so that he could show that he was harmless to the creature. Slowly, the creature pressed his muzzle to the blonde's hair and sniffed it lightly, the creature's ears twitching as it did so… But then it lowered its head a little, especially when Mathieu mumbled soft words to the creature in a very hushed and soothing voice.

"_That's it…_" Mathieu said softly, gently stroking his hands over the horse's neck and patting the creature softly. The horse looked rather calm, and he snorted a little, ears twitching.

Gilbert stood, arms crossed and his eyes widened in amazement. But, then he frowned and huffed, "Damn it, why didn't you eat his hair?" He grumbled, a little annoyed that he hadn't gotten a good laugh out of it. He stepped forward and petted his horse on the neck again, grinning, "Good boy."

"_What a beautiful horse._" Mathieu complimented, brushing the creature's hair with his fingers.

Gilbert grinned at his horse, "We'll be off home in a bit, and I'll get you some oats when we get back." He promised, patting the horse again and looking at Mathieu. "No idea how you did that… But… I'm impressed."

Mathieu smiled a little at Gilbert, although he still had no pure understanding of Gilbert's language; he could still see the albino's smooth grin and take it that the other said something rather kind.

Gilbert couldn't stand the communication barrier between the two of them, and so he made a mental note to learn some sort of French when he got home. Perhaps he could bring a book with him, if they did decide to meet again.

"_Ah, why don't you come with me? Bring the horse too._" Mathieu suddenly said, gesturing to Gilbert and the horse to follow him.

Gilbert looked at Mathieu for any sort of sign that he was going to execute Gilbert deep in the woods… But he saw nothing than a sweet face. _Gott im himmel…_ Gilbert repeated to himself for the umpteenth time, just looking at Mathieu's sweet eyes made the albino's heart flutter in the strangest of ways. "I suppose I'll come… Just for a little. I have to get back soon." He said to Mathieu, but more to himself due to the language barrier. Gilbert slowly untied the rope that was holding his horse to the tree, and he slowly followed after Mathieu, who seemed to have a skip in his step.

* * *

After what seemed like a fairly long while, they reached a small open grove of the forest. The sound of running water seemed a little loud at this point, and it was only then that Gilbert had realised that he must have been visiting the Garden of Eden. The open grove was surrounded perfectly by a circle of tall, thin trees with the healthiest green leaves that he had ever seen… Seemingly untouched by the pollution. The ground was scattered with fresh, long grass, natural and uncut by anyone. There were daises, and beautiful flowers that held colours of yellow and red. Running through the grove was a small stream, untouched by any sort of dam created by a beaver, and the water looked more clear than any water Gilbert had ever drank in his life before.

"Gott im himmel… What is this place?" Gilbert whispered his eyes still wide with surprise. He looked towards Mathieu, who was smiling sweetly at Gilbert. Mathieu was used to the beauty by now, and so he was just looking at Gilbert, amused by the shock on his face. The royal gardens could not compare to this beautiful, natural grove.

Gilbert's horse had already bowed its head to begin munching on the fresh grass, and seeing as his owner had let the rope slip through his fingers from the shock, he went over to the river to drink some of the equally fresh water.

Mathieu looked proudly at the grove, "_It's where I come to relax and think about everything… It's pretty, isn't it?_" He spoke slowly and gently, eyes scanning over the beauty of the grove.

Gilbert slowly took a few steps, careful not to crush any of the beautiful flowers, and he grinned widely. "It's amazing!" He exclaimed, slowly sitting himself down in the grass and looking at Mathieu, patting the grass next to him.

"_Sit with you…?_" Mathieu questioned, arching his brow slowly. He slowly walked over to the other male, and gently sat down beside him.

For a moment, an awkward silence loomed over the two for a moment. They both kept looking around the grove for some sort of subject to arise so they could discuss it, but then the annoying factor of their language barrier kept popping up. Gilbert frowned and looked at the grass and saw the daisies staring up at him. Such healthy, fully grown flowers sitting with the long strands of untouched grass… It was simply beautiful and amazing.

Gilbert slowly reached his pale fingers between the strands of grass and began to pick the daises around him. He ignored the feeling of Mathieu's eyes burning into his skull, as he slowly began to construct a chain of daises, mostly out of pure boredom. He would often get picked on by that Hungarian girl back in his old town, but in turn, he would just pick on her too… But, before Ludwig came along, this was what Gilbert used to do with his free time.

"_This is strange… What are you making?_" Mathieu questioned, tilting his head as he watched Gilbert expertly create a strange chain of flowers.

Gilbert heard the questioning tone in Mathieu's voice, and he looked towards him, "Daisy chain… Have you never made one?"

"Dai…sy… Ch…ain?" Mathieu spoke in English, unsure of repeating this 'vile' language just to try and understand the word fully.

"Ja. Daisy chain." Gilbert nodded, continuing the cycle of putting one daisy along with another inside its stem. He then turned the chain, and then formed the final daisy in with the first one. He had made a small bracelet made out of beautiful daisies.

Gilbert offered the bracelet to Mathieu, grinning, "Here you go, Mathieu."

"_This is… for me?_" Mathieu questioned, his eyes wide as he stared at the bracelet in curiosity. Gilbert watched as the blonde's slender hands reached for the bracelet and took his, Mathieu's cheeks were pink with the flattery that he felt. "_Beautiful._" He mumbled, slipping it onto his wrist and smiling.

Gilbert grinned at Mathieu and then at his wrist which held the chain of flowers, and he looked at it in admiration. It was the first time anyone seemed to appreciate his creation… Other than his mother, of course.

"_Thank you, _Gilbert." Mathieu said softly, offering a kind smile to Gilbert.

Gilbert blinked at the words he could understand, and he looked at Mathieu. A wide grin spread across his face, and he nodded, "J-Ja! Of course! Um… _You're welcome._" He spoke in his awful French dialect.

Gilbert had a good feeling about this… But he knew that he could never speak of this to anyone. His father would have Mathieu's head. _Literally. _But, Gilbert wanted to share his strange relationship with this male to someone else…

Gilbert was just so excited about the future.


End file.
